


He shields himself in anger to drown out the grief

by theladystrikesagain



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Cheating, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Make Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-11-30 08:12:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11459580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladystrikesagain/pseuds/theladystrikesagain
Summary: “You were the one who confessed to me, remember?” Iwaizumi forced a smirk grow on his face, ignoring the pain welling in his chest, numbing everything inside him.Stone cold, you are stone cold. “What…did you actually think I wouldwantto date you?”Oikawa Tooru was a rubbish person. Cheaters belonged at the bottom rung of society, alongside loan sharks and people who walked too slow. But then, what exactly would that make Iwaizumi, who is still in love with the bastard?Or, Iwaizumi gets sent proof that Oikawa is cheating on him, and attempts to hurt him as much as he was hurt. He succeeds. They move forward. This is their story.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Be warned, this is a break-up/make-up fic, with the "make-up" bit being in the second (and last!) chapter. Hope you enjoy :))

**Image.jpg received**

 

**Image.jpg received**

 

**Image.jpg received**

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**_Unknown Contact:_ ** _Hey man. We don’t really know each other, and I’m not sure if it’s in my place to tell you anything, but you’re Oikawa Tooru’s boyfriend, right? I’m sorry to tell you this, but there was a party last night, at that Miyuki (?? I can’t really remember) girl’s party last night, and he was…well…I’m sure you can tell from these photos-_

-Oikawa, being pressed against a wall. Oikawa, his head tilted back, his slick mouth open and his eyes glazed over with pleasure, a stranger’s tongue halfway down his throat and a hand unbuckling that silver belt of his, the one Iwaizumi picked out for him 3 weeks ago-

- _and, just…if it was me, I would want to know, so…._

_Sorry, man._

* * *

 

Weekdays were usually the worst.

Days filled to the brim with going to lectures, doing readings that never managed to completely sink in no matter how much they were skimmed over, and finishing off assignments due the next day or in a few hours, or, in one horrible, never-to-be-repeated situation, due at the end of the current class being taught, _shut up Iwa-chan I work better under pressure anyway-_

University was turning out to be beyond aggravating and quite frankly, it made Iwaizumi long for the sweet release of death on a near-daily basis.

Somehow though, the two of them had managed to make it work.

Weeknights were spent complaining over the work they had neglected to finish until the last second, while also taking the time to talk about more pleasant things – or to just talk in general, because with Iwaizumi doing physiotherapy and Oikawa doing astrophysics, they didn’t exactly have much time together outside of their jam-packed schedules. And with volleyball, the one thing that united them above all else, having become yet another sacrifice to their insane workload, the moments Iwaizumi got to spend with Oikawa were precious few.

Friday. Friday just _had_ to plummet the whole week down, from barely tolerable to one of the worst in Iwaizumi’s life. The harsh sound of the clock signalling midnight, tolling alongside the look of abject shock on Oikawa’s stark white face, provided the perfect cacophony to what felt like the end of Iwaizumi’s life as he knew it.

 

“You were the one who confessed to _me_ , remember?” Iwaizumi let a slow smirk grow on his face, ignoring the pain welling in his chest, numbing everything. _Stone cold, you are stone cold._ “What…did you actually think I would _want_ to date you?”

Stunned, Oikawa just stared at him, as if he was witnessing some kind of accident, not registering that this was actually happening for several seconds. “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’? You told me you wanted to date me, so I said that we should try it out.” Iwaizumi flicked his gaze to the photo behind Oikawa in a show of practiced indifference. “That doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like we actually talked about whatever ‘this’ was.”

Iwaizumi quickly found that his ‘stone cold’ mantra did not work as effectively when confronted with a dead silent room and Oikawa’s mouth doing its best impression of a fish, flopping open and shut. Regaining his composure, Oikawa audibly swallowed and asked, “What are you saying, then? That this was just some…f-fun for you? That you never really liked me?” His breath hitched and he moved closer to the wall behind him. “You would never do that to me. I know you, Iwa-chan- “

 _“Don’t call me that!”_ The bellow escaped him. Oikawa visibly cowered in front of Iwaizumi as he moved forward. “Don’t you _dare_ , Oikawa. After what you pulled- how _dare_ you…“

“What did I do?” Oikawa’s hands hovered uncertainly in front of him, wanting to touch Iwaizumi but not knowing if he would be accepted. “Is it the drinking? The partying? I haven’t done that in weeks, I swear I haven’t even thought about it. Tell me what it was, I promise I’ll never- I won’t ever-” Oikawa shut his mouth, and apparently deciding it would be alright, moved forward and wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi’s torso, resolutely ignoring the pointed shove to his shoulder. “Please. I’m sorry. Forgive me.”

Iwaizumi let out a humourless chuckle.

“Seriously, Iwa-chan, I’m so sorry-“

“How can you be sorry?” Iwaizumi seethed. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about.” His words were interspersed with jolts aimed to push off the man clinging to him. Oikawa stubbornly held on. “Why are you acting so innocent? How can you even _touch_ me after what you did?”

That seemed to do the trick. Oikawa took a few steps back, the wall halting him in his tracks. “I- what? Touch you? What are you talking about?”

“What I’m talking about, is this.” Iwaizumi opened his phone with an exaggerated flourish, the cover snapping back. A strange glee was resonating inside him, satisfaction that he had the proof that would bring this shamble of a relationship down right at his fingertips. Iwaizumi dimly realised it was because he was still slightly in shock.

Oikawa, however, looked as if the world was imploding right before his eyes. “I…How did you get that?“ He asked shrilly, pointing at Iwaizumi’s phone with a shaking hand. The worst picture of the lot, the one with a stranger’s hand down Oikawa’s pants and his mouth moving sloppily against Oikawa’s, was displayed there.

A bang came from the wall next to the television, their neighbour’s roar of _“For the love of God, keep it down in there!”_ cutting into the moment. Just as well, as it allowed Iwaizumi to get his bearings for a moment and not, as he had been about to do a few seconds previous, punch the man opposite him. He took a deep breath and repeated his inner mantra. _Cool as ice, stay calm, you got this._

It worked. He opened his eyes again and forced a sneer onto his face, the expression an unfamiliar presence on his face, and tried to relish in the way Oikawa flinched.

“It’s a good thing,” he drawled, shouldering past Oikawa on his way to the kitchen, where he could attempt to push down his imminent breakdown in peace. “That neither of us were taking this thing seriously. That we were both just messing around.”

Oikawa, damn him, followed his footsteps numbly. “Iwa- “

“Dirty.” Iwaizumi snapped as the man appeared before him again. He turned to the sink and turned the tap on to scrub at his face, trying in vain to wash off the horrible feelings inside him. “Should never have followed you to Tokyo.”

Oikawa’s face crumpled. “Please, Iwa-chan. Please- I don’t…” His voice broke off.

Iwaizumi waited to see if he would continue. Some part of him (the traitorous majority of his body) wanted so badly for Oikawa to apologize and run into his arms again, so he could wipe away that stricken look on his face.

 _The look I put there,_ he thought to himself, choking down his own rising panic. _He deserves it, but…_

Iwaizumi shook off the regret and pushed himself into thinking more mechanically about the future. As mechanically as he could in his current situation, either way. He would be lying if he didn’t create a little script for this specific purpose. “We still have a few more months on this lease, so neither of us can break it. We’ll start properly splitting bills: I’ll take electricity and gas, you take water and internet.” Inwardly, Iwaizumi slapped himself as he realised that, _of course,_ he had subconsciously chosen to take the most expensive bills and foot them to take care of Oikawa “Perpetually job-surfing and broke” Tooru.

 _It’s what I was doing this entire time, anyway,_ Iwaizumi thought bitterly. _Taking care of him while he took advantage. Shows what I’ve learned._

Oikawa’s voice in response was little more than a whisper. “Okay.”

“That’s everything for now, then.” Iwaizumi moved to walk out of the kitchen, but suddenly Oikawa was lurching up and glaring at him with red rimmed eyes. “If you were just playing around,” he croaked, his voice quaking. “If this was just a game to you, if you…if you don’t care about me, then why are you angry? What does it matter if…”

“It matters,” Iwaizumi stressed, anger flaring at both the awful silence that fell, and the audacity of Oikawa to ask him such a question to trip him up. “Because I came out here with an easy lay that I _thought_ was faithful. Because now I can’t trust that I won’t catch my death by going near you. Because even if though I didn’t want to date you,” - here, Iwaizumi struggled to keep his gaze on Oikawa - “I don’t know who you are anymore. And I don’t particularly want to.”

Oikawa froze completely, before listlessly deflating into a seat on the dining table, hiding his face between his legs. The sneer on Iwaizumi’s face threatened to slip into something else, and he struggled to keep it on. “I guess we’re really finished here, then.” He walked down the hall, out of the place where the fabric of their lives together had just been torn apart, reached their bedroom– no, _his_ bedroom, if Oikawa wanted to sleep around, he could damn well clear out the spare room on his own and sleep there – and slammed the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves for more angst + a relationship formed anew, kiddos. Hope you enjoy.

Weekends were usually the best.

The stress of the past work week was always left behind, and Oikawa and Hajime looked forward to 2 straight days of relaxation, despite the fact that it would most likely be better for them if they got started on the work they had due in the immediate future. Probably.

They were happy. That was what Hajime had thought. People had sometimes complained about it, but their apartment was always bursting with passionate speeches (mostly Oikawa going off on his strange tangents about the most random things), and yelling (mostly Hajime being terrified about Oikawa’s frequent brushings with death in their kitchen), and more often than anything else, the sound of their shared laughter going through their paper-thin walls and echoing everywhere, showcasing their delight to everyone in their immediate vicinity, much to the collective disgust of their neighbours.

Nowadays, the apartment was as quiet as a morgue.

Oikawa had showed up in the kitchen the morning after…the event looking like death warmed over, and had just stood there for a few seconds before blurting out that he wasn’t able to sleep very well.

Hajime had wanted to reply scathingly. He wanted to say something cutting, like, “ _Why? I would’ve thought you were great at sleeping in unfamiliar beds_.” Hajime also knew that as much as he wanted to hurt Oikawa, he would hate himself infinitely more if he actually said something like that, and so he didn’t reply beyond a grunt of acknowledgement. Oikawa slouched off, and Hajime took a deep breath before cracking another egg into the sizzling pan on the stovetop and quickly resolving to ignore the man altogether.

This would be made easier by the fact that Oikawa often went out on the weekends in an attempt to spend at least some of his time with other friends, counteracted by the fact that he dragged Hajime with him most of the time. There was no risk of that happening today, so Hajime kept cooking his breakfast and kept up hope that Oikawa would go out.

Unfortunately, Hajime had forgotten that at a push, Oikawa could be just as introverted as he was. And he had apparently picked today to hole up in their apartment. Oikawa sat there watching Saturday morning cartoons and, Hajime judged by the way he was sitting stiffly on his seat, feeling the palpable tension in the living room.

The resolve that Hajime was impressed with himself for thinking up lasted about 45 minutes, which, he thought to himself, was actually quite impressive, given that he had assumed it wouldn’t last the duration of the show Oikawa was silently watching in the living room. Regardless, Hajime had been exceptionally proud of himself when the closing credits had started and he still hadn’t even glanced at Oikawa, who, as well as looking pallid and slightly ill with his hair sticking up in all directions, was now lying prone on an armchair, as if he was attempting to melt into the seat itself. He was even still in his pyjamas, which was normally unheard of for Oikawa around this time of day. He was one of those people who believed that in order for one to be _truly_ productive, one had to dress properly. Hajime had thought it was just something Oikawa told himself to get out of his hideous pyjamas as fast as possible every morning.

Hajime reluctantly conceded that he, in fact, was glancing at Oikawa, and at a quite frequent rate at that. At least he hadn’t entirely embarrassed his ancestors and started _talking_ to the man who had ruined them. That would have been truly unacceptable. Instead, Hajime gathered his breakfast, took a steadying breath, and walked into the living room.

The first thing his mutinous mind realized as he entered was that it was almost midday and that, judging from the lack of any dishes in the sink (and from the fact that Oikawa never washed the dishes before evening, calling it a “ _complete waste of water_ ”), Oikawa still had not had anything to eat. In retrospect, and to his credit, Hajime did honestly try to keep his mouth shut. But many years of taking care of someone who couldn’t take care of himself had conditioned him well, and he found himself shattering the awful silence in the room by blurting out, “You haven’t had breakfast. How many times do I have to say that you need to eat?”

The silence in the room after, particularly when Oikawa very slowly turned his head and stared at Hajime with an indecipherable look on his face, was almost as bad as the previous one, and Hajime was in the midst of debating the merits of whether or not he should throw himself out of a window before Oikawa replied with a soft, “I forgot”. Before Hajime could continue (or not continue) the tense conversation further, Oikawa stood up and started walking over to the kitchen, his loose pyjama shirt fluttering down for a heartbeat.

Something that became apparent to Hajime was that Oikawa was sporting a painful-looking bruise on one shoulder, one that he was attempting to hide. Another thing was the realization that, judging by the harsh beating of his own heart and the incessant _how-did-that-happen-is-he-okay_ thoughts currently running through his head, Hajime had vastly underestimated his own feelings for Oikawa. If something as relatively insignificant as a bruise could tug at him like this, who on Earth was he kidding? He was doomed.

“I’m fine.” Oikawa’s voice startled him out of his stupor, and Hajime looked up to find himself in front of him. He had unconsciously followed him into the kitchen, eyes fixed on his body.

Hajime wordlessly pointed at his shoulder. Oikawa looked away, avoiding Hajime’s gaze, and continued on his quest through their kitchen cupboards.

As it turned out, when Hajime finally got the source of Oikawa’s injury out of him, it was revealed that the futon that Hajime had thought resided in the closet inside the spare room was, in fact, currently residing in the home of one of his friends, after he _himself_ had lent it to them. Thus, instead of sleeping on the couch like a normal person, Oikawa had decided it was a clever idea to sleep on one of the piles of boxes that was in the room. The whispered “ _It’s no big deal”_ that had come after Oikawa’s mumbled explanation left Hajime feeling like even more of a monster than before, because Oikawa had the option of coming back to Hajime that night and telling him the situation, but he clearly thought he would be sent away.

The idea that a pile of boxes was the place Oikawa had chosen to sleep on because he thought Hajime had _wanted_ him to suffer was another horrible notion he didn’t want to think about too much. And so, instead of sitting down and thinking up a better solution, like maybe contacting his friend or just buying another futon altogether, Hajime’s mouth once again proved its lack of reliability by talking before he had even processed what he was about to say.

“You should’ve just come back to bed, idiot,” he snapped, reaching for the icepack they kept frozen and stalking over to where Oikawa stood. Hajime pretended not to notice the flinch the ran through Oikawa’s body as he pulled his shirt down and directly applied the pack to the bruise. “Come back to bed for tonight. Just…just stick to one side of it.”

It was something alien to Hajime, even as he stiffly pressed the icepack onto Oikawa (who was apparently doing his best impression of a statue, because the man was not moving an inch). The concept of ‘sides’ to their bed had not only never been an issue before, it had never even existed. There would be times when Hajime would be half asleep and Oikawa would launch himself onto their bad with little care of where he would land, which inevitably resulted in him ending up with his body sandwiched on top of Hajime’s half the time. And while Hajime was annoyed by it and shoved him back whenever it happened, it was never something he really took seriously. This, the apartment, the living space, the bed, it belonged to the both of them. As far as Hajime was concerned, Oikawa could do whatever he wanted to make himself happy, provided said happiness didn’t infringe on him too much. And if he was honest with himself, when Hajime would wake up in the morning to Oikawa tangled in his arms and snoring loud enough to wake the dead, try as he might, he could never find a single thing in the world to complain about.

Things were completely different now, of course. The day had passed relatively quickly, with Oikawa quietly working on some assignments on the dining table and Hajime reading a book on the sofa, before being unable to take the suffocating silence a minute longer and leaving in a rush sometime around 4. Outside, he did his usual exercise routines (much earlier than the normal time he did them) before walking off to the local library, where he spent the next few hours idly thumbing through their collection and settling down with a book.

By the time he left the library, it was dark outside. Hajime hadn’t intended to spend so long out (and he hadn’t expected to become so engrossed on _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_. ‘Children’s stories’ his ass, they were great) and so, he immediately set off for home.

As he walked, Hajime thought about his previous offer to Oikawa. If he was being completely serious with himself, Hajime was both dreading and looking forward to sleeping in the same bed as Oikawa again, even though he had spent only the previous night alone. Not that this was going to be a permanent thing. The fact remained that Hajime still loved the bastard, and for those feelings to go away, he needed proper space and distance, something that was not awarded by sleeping in the immediate vicinity of the person he was attempting to get over.

By the time he reached home, Hajime was about 2 seconds away from rescinding his previous offer and telling Oikawa to just sleep on the couch, but the image of him sleeping alone in that uncomfortable bare room came to mind, and the knowledge that Oikawa was the type of idiot to put himself through more pain as a form of punishment, stupid as that may sound, so instead Hajime got ready for bed and tried his hardest to not think too much when Oikawa slid in after him.

Hajime was prepared to lay down the law in regard to personal space, but surprisingly, Oikawa stayed rooted to his side of the bed when Hajime climbed in, pressed almost dangerously close to the edge. He lay there without moving a muscle until Hajime drifted off, confident that he could, in fact, get through this.

 

The morning did not go down as well.

 

When Hajime opened his eyes blearily to the new day (he was a habitual early riser and always woke up before Oikawa did), he found himself tangled in a familiar embrace. Oikawa’s head was resting on his chest, his hair curling up and tickling Hajime when he came near it, which he did. At first, Hajime completely forgot anything was wrong, and so he nuzzled away at Oikawa without a care in the world. The sound of Oikawa’s pleased moan was another sign of normality, just another part of the morning for the two of them.

Oikawa moved away from him, yawning, and stretched his arms above his head before lying down on Hajime again, sighing contentedly and wiggling closer to escape the cold of their room. Hajime absentmindedly threaded his fingers through Oikawa’s hair and stroked down his back with his other hand, his every movement languid in knowledge that he didn’t have to get up early today. The clock nearby showcased the time – 7:25 – and Hajime wondered why he was even awake so early on a Sunday morning of all days. He didn’t think he went to sleep _too_ early last night, and besides, Oikawa had also-

Realisation hit the both of them at the same time, and Oikawa went completely stiff in Hajime’s arms. Neither of them moved for a moment.

Hajime jolted up first, all tiredness gone in an instant. “What the _hell_?” he rasped, pushing Oikawa away and bringing his blanket up to cover himself, as if hiding would slow down the battering of his heart against his ribcage. “What are you doi-“

Before he could finish, Oikawa launched himself off the bed and out of the room with surprising grace for someone who was still half asleep. Hajime heard the bathroom door slam shut, and held out for a few seconds before sinking down on top of his pillows with a groan, putting his head in his hands, and willing himself to die.

 

Hajime wondered whether sleeping on the same bed as his cheating ex was the stupidest thing he had ever done. It definitely had to be up there, alongside taking advanced chemistry and eating a snail as a five-year-old. Back in those days, he could complain and cry about what his choices had led him to. But now? Hajime was a grown man. Long gone were the days where it was acceptable for him to wallow and reject any responsibility he had in these situations. He had been holding Oikawa back, hadn’t he? He was complicit, and therefore, it was imperative of him to follow after the obviously-upset Oikawa and set the record straight.

He would follow after him. Any minute now.

 

Hajime had been wallowing in bed for almost half an hour before he realised that Oikawa had been in the bathroom a rather long time, even for him, and that the apartment was eerily quiet. Normally, the sound of running water from that bathroom could be heard anywhere in the house because of how old the apartment piping was. It always sounded like a waterfall rushing whenever someone opened a tap. Now, there wasn’t a peep.

“Oikawa?” Hajime called out apprehensively, stepping out onto the hallway. No one responded back, and a small prickle of worry started to creep up Hajime’s back. Walking forward, he reached the bathroom and tried the doorknob. It was locked.

“Oikawa?” he called again, a tinge of panic colouring his words now. He tried the door again. There was no reply that came from the bathroom, but Hajime heard the weak “ _Ow”_ that filtered through and well, if he wasn’t thinking of worst case scenarios before then, he definitely was now. He braced himself, before shoving his shoulder as hard as he could at the door, hoping that the flimsy door lock wouldn’t hold and that he wouldn’t end up with a dislocated joint.

It worked. As he stumbled in, heart in his throat, he nearly tripped over an extended limb. Lying there, sprawled on the floor in rather undignified way with a shocked expression on his face, was Oikawa.

Hajime rushed towards him, eyes already working overtime to assess any discernible damage. “Oh god,” he mumbled as he glimpsed a painful-looking red mark from where Oikawa must’ve hit when he went down. The counter next to him has had its entire surface’s content swept onto the floor, and that, Hajime realises too late, there is spilled toothpaste everywhere. Aside from that, there didn’t seem to be anything too serious. “Are you okay? What happened? Does anything hurt?” Hajime kept exploring Oikawa for any injury. “Oikawa?” he asked again, prompted by the lack of response. Hajime stared down at him. “Are you hurt?”

Oikawa looked up at Hajime, who had worry etched onto his face and toothpaste staining the knees of his pyjama pants, and promptly burst into tears.

 

Later, Hajime was ashamed to admit that he had gone slightly hysterical after that, and had charged off to their bedroom so he could call an ambulance because what kind of pain must Oikawa be in to cry like that, he might actually _die-_

Oikawa had followed him, still sobbing, and had gasped, “ _I’m fine, I just tripped a little, don’t call an ambulance Iwa-chan, calm down…”_ It was the thought that a sobbing man was being more rational at this point than he was that finally snapped Hajime out of it.

Hajime had then busied himself with treating the (admittedly minor) injuries that Oikawa had ended up sustaining in their kitchen, another thick silence enveloping them, interjected only by the occasional hiccup or sniff from Oikawa. When he was finished, Hajime took him by the arm and led him to the living room. He could no longer take the tense atmosphere that surrounded them at all times, and so he steeled himself for a very difficult conversation.

“First off,” he began when Oikawa finally stopped sniffling. “If you get hurt, and you’re in a place where I can’t immediately reach you and you hear me call, for the love of God, respond. _Please._ ” Hajime looked down at his knees, where the new toothpaste stains were already drying, in an attempt to center himself. “I think I nearly had a heart attack. Don’t ignore me like that again.”

Oikawa looked at him defiantly, a hint of anger in his eyes. “And why would you care?” he snapped. “You made your position, your feelings for me, perfectly clear a few nights ago. I don’t want to be a bother.”

Hajime’s head snapped back up. “There is a difference between me not wanting to _date_ you, or whatever, and me wanting to make sure you are safe. If you can’t see that I obviously care whether you live or die, you’re a bigger idiot than I thought.” The first part was not true in any way, which kind of undercut Hajime’s resolve to have a difficult, truthful conversation, but he thought he deserved a small mercy.

Regardless, it was the wrong thing to say. Oikawa looked away, his face blotchy, and stayed resolutely silent. Hajime did not say anything either, and the silence stretched out, long and awful. He’ll be damned if he breaks first however, and as childish as it may sound, Hajime had no intentions of leaving his seat before this talk is over. Conversations were a two-way street, and all eyes were on Oikawa.

Oikawa gave up first. “You said,” he mumbled, looking down at his feet. “You said that we weren’t serious. That you regretted coming to Tokyo with me.” Oikawa’s voice broke off at the end, and he turned his face away hurriedly, suddenly focusing on the broken lamp next to him.

 

At that moment, Hajime wanted to do nothing more than throttle his past self.

 

He can do nothing but stare at Oikawa’s downtrodden form, unable to find the words to articulate just how wrong he was, how despite everything, he thought if he woke up every morning to Oikawa’s face snoring in front of his own, he would be the happiest person in the world. But his mouth has picked now to forget how it works, and Hajime watched Oikawa’s face fall as he took Hajime’s silence as confirmation, and no, _no, he thinks I hate him, he thinks I don’t want him-_

Hajime was sure there were a few things in the world worse than leaving Oikawa like this, all crumpled and broken and believing himself to be hated, but at that moment, not a single one was entering his mind. So instead, he reached out across the small space separating their 2 chairs and wrapped his arms around Oikawa, holding him close for a moment as he gathered his thoughts.

“I was angry,” he said finally, stroking through Oikawa’s curls like he did that morning. “I was angry, and hurt, and I wanted you to feel the same way I did.” Oikawa only gave a sniff in response. Hajime took it as permission to continue. “It was a lie. None of it was true, not a single word. And I’m sorry I said it, I’m sorry I hurt you.” Hajime pauses for a moment before laughing a little bitterly at himself. “Isn’t that kind of pathetic? You sleep with someone else, and I can’t even pretend to hate you for it for longer than 2 days.”

Oikawa stayed silent, and Hajime kept going, his thoughts escaping him like a tidal wave.

“I just don’t understand. Did I…did I do something? What could I have done better?”

“I don’t remember.”

Hajime looked down at Oikawa, who had whispered that line. Oikawa looked up at him, his gaze a little dazed. “You would think I’d remember someone touching me the way they did in those photos. I don’t.”

Hajime started moving away, not able to deal with the possibility of Oikawa lying. Oikawa, however, was not finished, and held on tightly to his arm. “You have to believe me, Iwa-chan. I remember everything that night, I didn’t even drink. Not a sip! A guy in one of my classes offered to drop me off at home after he had a beer, and he got me a coke because I said I wasn’t drinking. He promised it was just a coke, he promised…”

Oikawa started to shake, and the only thing running through Hajime’s head was a steady _nonono_ as the pieces fell into place in his head. The way Oikawa was propped against a wall by that stranger, the glazed-over look on his face, all obvious in hindsight but not so much when he was blinded by pain and rage. “I…he said he would take me home. He did take me, I think?” Oikawa reached for him and Hajime held him tighter, so close he could hear the erratic breathing escaping the other man. “I don’t think…you don’t think…” Oikawa didn’t finish the sentence, and for the first time in his life, Hajime had no idea what to say to the person he practically grown up with. There was a sick feeling spreading through him, thoughts of _he was raped he was forced he didn’t know_ running through his mind as Oikawa falls against him, wrapped his arms so tight around Hajime’s neck he can’t breathe, and doesn’t stop shaking.

 

They didn’t move for another hour. When Oikawa finally stirred in Hajime’s lap and sat up, staring blankly at the table in front of them, Hajime wanted to apologize, because what kind of _trash_ was someone who blamed his boyfriend for his own sexual assault, but the words wouldn’t leave him, and he couldn’t think of anything. He couldn’t even bear to look Oikawa in the face, because he didn’t deserve it.

But then Oikawa put a hand on his tense shoulder, shook him until he finally looked up, and gave him a what-can-you-do-about-it shrug. He still had that horrifyingly blank expression on his face, and Hajime would do just about anything in the world to wipe it off forever.

“It’ll be alright,” he said instead, because while he can’t do much at this moment, he can at the very least offer some reassurance. “Oikawa, it’ll be okay. We can go to the police. We can tell your family. We can do nothing at all, and I have no idea how it’ll be in the end, but I swear to you, I’ll stay by you for as long as you need me to. I love you. Do you hear me? I love you, and I’m not leaving any time soon.”

Oikawa gave him a shaky smile and threaded his fingers through Hajime’s, and although he recognized the road ahead of them was tough, Hajime somehow knew everything would be alright in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it ends. A relatively good ending if I must say, but I didn't think a completely happy ending would fit the angsty theme of the story, so this happened. Tell me what you think!
> 
> [My tumblr, where you contact me/rant to me/whatever you fancy~](http://www.theladystrikesagain.tumblr.com/ask)


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